


Changes Everything Deleted Scene: March 1996, Hogwarts: "Small Rebellion"

by plokool



Series: Changes Everything Universe [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Misgendering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plokool/pseuds/plokool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a first-year at Hogwarts after the flight of the Twelve. When he is outed as "other" by Umbridge, to himself and the school, he finds his own unique way of getting back at her.</p><p>Well, we busted out of class<br/>Had to get away from those fools<br/>We learned more from a 3-minute record, baby<br/>Than we ever learned in school<br/>Tonight I hear the neighborhood drummer sound<br/>I can feel my heart begin to pound<br/>You say you're tired and you just want to close your eyes<br/>And follow your dreams down<br/>Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember<br/>No retreat, baby, no surrender<br/>Like soldiers on the winter's night<br/>With a vow to defend<br/>No retreat, baby, no surrender<br/>-Bruce Springsteen, “No Surrender”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes Everything Deleted Scene: March 1996, Hogwarts: "Small Rebellion"

“Miles Martinez!,” the great toad shouted from the head of the hall. Not that I could hear, being relegated to the back of the Ravenclaw table with the other muggle borns, and even farther back for being Puerto Rican.

            “MILES MARTINEZ!” Umbridge called, louder. I was in shock. What was I doing on this list? I wasn’t transgender. Before this, I didn’t even have a good definition of what that was. I certainly didn’t take any hormones or anything like that and I had no recollection of a surgery. Could I be “other?” I wasn’t always comfortable being treated like a boy, sure, but I thought I was just unconventional, not...other.

            “You’d better get up there, mate,” my good friend Des said, a mournful look on his face. I rose, the eyes of my classmates on me. I wasn’t the only first-year to be brought to the head of the hall, but I was possibly the shortest. The Great Hall seemed to morph into a monstrous cavern as I trudged my way towards my sobbing peers.

            By the time Umbridge called me, there was already a rather large group standing and facing the rest of the students. I could tell that they wanted desperately to hold or comfort one another but Umbridge had forbidden it. We had heard rumors, of course, of what Umbridge had done to bring about the fight with Maggie Johnson and the flight of the twelve. And we certainly knew she had authorization to inflict all manner of sadistic punishments on the students. And so, no one dared defy her as they stood to be humiliated. A Slytherin girl, second-year by the looks of her, had collapsed to the ground in anguish, but no one could do anything for her.

            A pair of older Ravenclaw boys (were they boys? maybe they were other, like me? maybe the girl was?) stepped aside to let me into the line. I stood, shaking, as I looked on at those who were left to watch. Nearly all looked sympathetic, or at least concerned. There was, of course, a faction of Slytherins laughing and jeering, but some who I expected to be in on the revelry looked downright miserable. Were the rumors true? Did Draco Malfoy really have a heart?

            Umbridge continued to read her list, but my head was swimming. I could barely make out the names, but I saw the faces. We were an eclectic bunch: prefects to hooligans, brains to Quidditch players. A whole sampling of the school stood beside me. I did, however, notice that one group was overrepresented. I wasn’t sure completely, seeing as I couldn’t really join as a first-year, but many confirmed or suspected members of Harry Potter’s secret club were among those Umbrige had brought forward.

            “These students,” said Umbridge, finishing the list of names, “have thought and behaved in ways that are unnatural and are to be frowned upon in any society, wizarding or otherwise. For years you have been deceived by these students, with boys masquerading as girls and girls as boys.

            “On behalf of the Ministry, I apologize for the deception these students and their wicked, wicked ways have brought upon you, as well as any abominable actions you may have performed or contemplated under a mistaken impression of these students’ genders. Some among them even claim to belong to some other gender, as if such a thing could exist. How could it? What purpose could it possibly serve, when nature is made up solely of male and female?”

            The Ravenclaw table muttered at this. I thought I heard someone mention bees, but I couldn’t be sure.

            “Therefore,” Umbridge continued, “it is our sad duty to correct these errors in thinking, and set your peers back on the right path. I will oversee this process personally, to ensure complete success. As we speak, Mr. Filch is going around the dormitories, replacing their uniforms with those appropriate for their true identity.”

            Few around me could remain silent at that, gasping, crying louder, or simply exclaiming some choice words.

            “Silence!” Umbridge cried, still somehow maintaining her cheerful demeanor. “Now then, to begin repairing the damage that has been done to these students, they must remember who they truly are. The rest of you may return to your meals, but I must caution you: these students have chosen to be freaks and abominations. I warn you that the consequences will be severe for anyone who tries to follow in their footsteps or indulges their delusions in the slightest. That is all.”

            We stood awkwardly in place. Were we done here? Could we return to our seats after suffering this humiliation? Umbridge turned around to face us, still with that cloying smile on her face. With a wave of her wand, she conjured up a small desk for each of us, along with piles of parchment and quills, but no ink. I’d seen the marks on our classmates, as had everyone. We knew exactly what she wanted before she even asked. At least those of us who weren’t sobbing or passed out on the floor.

            “Hem hem,” she coughed, trying to silence us in our fear and despair. “Now that I have your attention, won’t you all sit down?”

            With reluctance, we all did. I shook in my seat, gripping the edge of the desk tightly to try to calm down. One girl (I think) a few desks over tried the same with the hand of her friend. Umbridge pointed her wand at them and shot a spell to launch their hands apart from each other.

            “Everyone take a quill,” she continued, “and some parchment. I want you all to write ‘I am a boy’ or ‘I am a girl,’ whichever you were born as, over and over until I tell you to stop. If I catch anyone slacking, you will be making this up in my office later. Is that clear?”

            The way she smiled with that last sentence. I despised her so much. I wanted to jam my wand up her nostril until it wouldn’t go any farther. But then I’d be in Azkaban, or worse, and that wouldn’t do any good to anyone. And my poor parents, to never see their son again as he rotted away in some wizard jail they’d never heard of. No, whatever I did, however I got my revenge, I had to be more subtle about it. Besides, if she could survive a brutal animal attack, I doubted severe brain trauma would do much better.

            I can’t really bear to describe what happened next. Imagine crawling through barbed wire. Unpleasant, right? Now imagine that not only are you doing that, but you’re surrounded by a crowd of friends and strangers all experiencing that together. Just try to grit your teeth and get through when someone wails beside you and reminds you of your pain. Just imagine crying out yourself and knowing you’re doing the same to your peers. Or imagine having to sit and watch this happen, powerless to stop it. The guilt you would feel.

            But I didn’t know much about that last part. I was in the shit. After what felt like days, I hovered over the desk, barely able to move. Umbridge came around and collected the parchment from my desk. By this point she had dismissed the other students and left only us deviants to watch what she did next.

            “I must commend you all on your rigorous line writing,” she said. No one made a sound. Some of us were barely conscious.

            “However,” she went on, “I’m afraid I cannot accept these parchments. You see, what you have written here are lies. You do not believe what you have written down, and so, you must keep at it throughout the term until it truly is the truth. Now, you had best get going to your classes. Anyone arriving late can get a head start on this in detention.”

            We were too broken to groan. All we could do was stand up and shuffle off to class. Des hadn’t waited up for me. I didn’t expect him to. He’s my best friend but only a fool would stick around when Umbridge told them to leave. I looked back and saw that one of the students, a tall girl from Gryffindor, hadn’t moved from her seat. She looked unconscious. Ernie (I think that was his name) got into a shouting match with Umbridge about it and ended up, by some miracle, carrying the girl away to the infirmary. I high-tailed it out of there and got off to class, my hand stinging madly.

 

            Days passed and things only grew worse at Hogwarts. I had yet to be called into Umbridge’s office for continued “education,” but others weren’t so lucky. It was rare to see an unwounded hand those days. It seemed like anyone who didn’t already have the wrong gender carved into their skin had a vow there to not repeat some minor infraction. One night, Des came back to the dorm to show me his: “I will not chew with my mouth open” etched faintly on his hand.

            “This is just getting ridiculous,” he said, rubbing it gently. “Somebody’s got to stop her, or at least...I don’t know, take her down a peg or something.”

            “Most everyone who could do that got driven away,” I sighed. “What’s left of Potter’s club can’t even do anything anymore.”

            “If only we could get rid of those damned quills. That would set her back, at least.”

            “Until she comes up with some worse way to torture us. Or just use a forbidden curse. She has the authority to do that, did you know?”

            “What do you suggest, then?” Des asked, getting a little fired up.

            “I really don’t know,” I replied. “Something small, something that can rattle and demoralize her. Maybe even give others ideas of little things to do.”

            “But we’re first-years,” Des said, incredulously. “Who’s going to follow our lead?”

            “I don’t know, but this woman has to be stopped. She drove away twelve of our best. Not all of them at academics, mind you, but best at something. She’s tortured students in more ways than one. Our curriculum is completely ruined. The school is becoming a prison. And...well, she robbed me of something really personal Maybe I would settle on that I’m nonbinary later in life, or maybe I wouldn’t and just always feel a bit off, but that was my journey, my discovery. In trying to correct what’s ‘wrong’ with me, she’s defined my identity for me. It’s honestly pretty violating.”

            Des didn’t need to say a word. He wrapped an arm around me and rubbed my shoulder. I hadn’t noticed that I had started to cry. I wiped my tears, staring off into space. It would do me no good to be sad. I had to get angry. I had to get determined.

            “Thanks, Des,” I said. “You’re a great friend.”

            “Likewise, mate,” he said with a smile.

            Sleep came, followed by a new day. Would this be the day my number came up? My hand had healed nicely but there were still scars. I didn’t dare try a spell on them and Madam Pomfrey was far too overworked to do much for anyone Umbridge had given detention. I went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Everyone ate in relative silence, just the clanking of silverware and sounds of chewing interspersed with rare whispered conversation. Even Saturdays like this one were grim after all that had happened.

            Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity. Today’s owls were here! We awaited outside contact much like prisoners. There was, however, nothing for me. My parents were certainly close enough to send things, we had emigrated from Puerto Rico to London when I was a toddler, but I had always been an independent child. I went into the school year not expecting much contact, but I sure could have used it now. I vowed to write to my parents, but somehow I knew I wouldn’t get around to doing that.

            That was not to say that the day’s deliveries were not without worth. The quiet broke when Harvey Logue, at the pureblood end of the Ravenclaw table, opened up an unassuming little envelope.

            “HARVEY SIONIS LOGUE!” bellowed the voice of his mother out of the letter, clearly a howler, “YOUR FATHER AND I ARE QUITE CROSS WITH YOU, YOUNG MAN! WHY WOULD YOU SNEAK OUT ONTO THE GROUNDS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? DON’T YOU KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS? AND TO DO IT WITH SOME HUFFLEPUFF HUSSY! YOU’RE BRINGING SHAME ON OUR FAMILY! SHAAAAAAAAME!”

            Harvey gathered his things and ran out of the Great Hall as everyone around him laughed. There wasn’t much laughter at the Hufflepuff table, though, and I thought I noticed one girl I didn’t know burying her beet-red face in a book. There was cruelty in a howler. You shamed your own child loudly in front of all their peers with no room for argument or retribution. But there was an elegance to it as well. The way silence broke into loud chaos in an instant had a remarkable effect on anyone present. It was at that moment my plan began to come together.

            For every crime, there is a means, motive, and opportunity. What I had in mind was not likely a crime, but I planned it as if it were one. Motive was easy. Umbridge had done so many awful things to Hogwarts and its students and deserved just comeuppance. Opportunity, meanwhile, proved trickier. For my plan to succeed, I needed access to Umbridge’s office. I considered pulling off my scheme in detention, but with no one else in the room, it would be painfully obvious I was the culprit.          

            In the meantime, I pursued the means, which were theoretically always available. What I needed was some sort of musical device. I doubted CDs worked in Hogwarts, but the school did possess at least one large record player. The trouble was, I had no idea where it was located or if I could have the necessary time alone with it to do what I waned. Nor, for that matter, did I know if the school’s record collection had what I needed. Surely not, I reasoned, since what I wanted was muggle music.

            To many students in my shoes, hope would seem lost, but I was nothing if not a keen observer of people. For instance, I knew for a fact that Harry Potter’s secret club was real; I had noticed many of its members having repeated and painful detentions with Umbridge. But surely any meeting place in the school would be easy to find. Unless, I figured, there was somewhere totally secret, magically so, within the school where they could go. And of course there were the rumors. A bathroom appearing in a corridor where one hadn’t been before, couples finding the perfect place to snog, that sort of thing. If there was, in fact, a magical, concealed, shape-changing room within the school, and if Potter’s club was using it, then I could find it and use it to my own ends.

            So, that Friday after potions, my last class for the day, I began wandering the halls, looking for someone who I knew for sure was a member. Before long I spotted him: the boy I believed to be Ernie. He awkwardly wore a skirt and he looked utterly miserable, but it was Ernie all the same. I kept to the shadows, using my small size to my advantage to remain unseen. Ernie just seemed to be walking around, going up and down staircases and doubling back on occasion. If he was seeking the secret room, he must not know where it is.

            “I know you’re following me,” he said suddenly, turning to face me.

            “What?” I gasped. “No…I’m not.”   

            “Are you spy for Umbridge?” he said angrily. Viewed up close, his face was a wreck, pale with little marks and dark circles around his eyes. “Did she break you and make you watch the rest of us?”

            “No!” I said, perhaps to loud. “I swear. Let’s get somewhere less crowded so I can explain.”

            Ernie obliged, stepping into a smaller corridor.

            “Well,” he said anxiously, “what is it?”

            “I’m not spying for Umbridge,” I replied. “I actually want to do something against her. I just needed information so I thought I’d follow you to get it.”

            “What do you need to know?” he said.

            “How to get to the room where you have your meetings,” I said, shaking slightly.

            “How do you know about those?” he said in a shaky voice.

            “Observation, rumors, connecting the dots,” I explained. “I don’t need to join or anything. I just want to use that room for something else. It’s my understanding it changes to meet people’s needs.”

            “Yes,” Ernie said, “we call it the room of requirement, but how do I know I can trust you enough to tell you how to find it?”

            “Well,” I said, pondering, “if you don’t I’ll just ask someone else, or follow them until they reveal it. But you saw me the day she read those lists. I didn’t even know I was other, I still don’t know exactly what I am, but the extent to which I am or am not a boy cannot and will not be decided by her. So no, she hasn’t gotten to me and no I would never in a million years help her. I just want to perform a small act of rebellion.”

            “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said Ernie, smiling slightly. “Rebellion is my specialty.”

            Ernie took me to where the Room of Requirement was located and showed me how to get in. We didn’t enter at that time; he merely demonstrated and told me how to make it work. Knowing how to get in and that the room could indeed provide everything I needed took care of means.

            Still, opportunity eluded me. Each class or detention I would wait for the chance to present itself, but it seemed like it would never come. Then, about a week later, Umbridge made the announcement I had been waiting for.

            “Students,” she said near the end of class, “it’s time we determined whether you’re learning the material properly. There will be a test next class covering everything we’ve learned so far this term. I’ve already written it up, so don’t try to complain about a topic to get it off the test.”

            This was perfect, exactly what I needed. I reached into my pocket and found what I needed: three fresh chocolate frogs in a little pouch. I opened the sack and let them loose, launching the classroom into chaos. The other students tried to catch the hopping sweets and Umbridge ran over to try to maintain order. In the confusion, I slipped into her office and looked around for what I needed. Time was tight, but when I looked around her desk I found what I was looking for. A large box said “First-years” in neat letters and was filled tight with parchment rolls. These had to be the tests. I opened up my book bag and stuffed it as fast as I could, then filled the box with some blank rolls I had brought with me.

            By now, I had been in the office a long time. No doubt the confusion from the frogs had passed. I peeked out and saw Umbridge yelling at a group of students, most likely the ones she blamed for the incident. Class was over now so the rest were gone, meaning all I had to do was sneak quietly out of the office, across the room, and into the hall. I chose a moment of most heated discussion and made my escape, ducking behind Umbridge’s classroom desk for cover before slipping out of the door.

            I made a beeline straight for the Room of Requirement and took the necessary steps to make it appear. Inside I found a large record player and a truly massive collection of muggle albums. Maybe someday I would come in there to listen to music. But for now, my mission was to pick just the right song for the occasion. I browsed for nearly an hour and listened to decades of hits before finding just what I wanted.

            It took some tough charms to perform this phase of my revenge, but I was fortunate that it was my best subject. Now, however, came the most difficult part: putting the tests back in Umbridge’s office. While I could probably endure detention, avoiding expulsion and/or torture meant I had to do this in secret. I stood out in the hall outside Umbridge’s office, coming up with a way to make this work. It was night, which I used to my advantage. No tyrant can resist catching someone breaking such a simple rule as a curfew.

            “I’d like to see that toad try to stop me!” I said loudly. “If she isn’t even smart enough to know Voldemort is back, what chance does she have finding me in a dark corridor.”

            “I don’t know about this,” I continued, in a different voice, “and keep your voice down, she might hear.”

            “Dolores Umbridge lives in a swamp and eats flies!” I shouted. “See, she can’t hear anything unless it’s in her lesson plan.”

            At this point I tried my best to replicate the sound of two people running off, to marginal effect. Still, my ruse was effective and I ducked into a shadow just as Umbridge emerged in her dressing gown, wand aglow to hunt down troublemakers. She scurried off into the corridors without even locking the door, giving me my chance. I crept in, found the box, and switched the parchments back. I had no time to dawdle, but I still had to remain cautious. Leaving one blank parchment in the box might ruin the effect, and jostling the enchanted tests might give away my plans.

            Before long, though, I had successfully switched the parchments and slipped back out of the office. Umbridge was nowhere in sight, no doubt chasing after the troublemaker. My luck held as I was able to make it back to Ravenclaw without catching sight of her or Filch, clearly an auspicious moment for my plan.

 

            I spent the next couple days in anxious anticipation until finally the day of my revenge had arrived. I walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts with a big smile on my face. For once I actually looked forward to a test. The rest of the class shuffled in, followed by Umbridge, the only one who exceeded my perkiness.

            “Well,” she said with a smile, “I hope you have all studied hard. I have no doubt that my instruction will help you do well on this.”

            She took out the box and began distributing tests. I wanted so badly to snicker about what would happen next but I maintained my composure. Once the tests were all out she stood at the front of the class.

            “Very well,” she said, “you may begin.”

            There was a quiet rustling for a moment a everyone opened their parchment. Then, _it_ happened.

            “Toniiiiiiight,” the first test began to sing, “I’m gonna have myself a real good tiiiiime.”

            Students muttered in confusion and Umbridge looked aghast.

            “I feel aliiiiiiiiiiive,” two more tests joined in, “and the woooooooorld, it’s turning inside out, yeah, and floating around in ecstasy.”

            Umbridge had been muttering and ranting the whole time but it could only be heard in the brief pauses.

            “So don’t….stop…me,..noooow” sang the first test again, “don’t stop me…”

            “‘Cause I’m having a good time, having a good time!” every test in the room joined in at this point, singing the song at a deafening roar. Umbridge was powerless now to speak and the muggle-borns among us got up to dance.

            “I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky,” continued the tests, “like a tiger defying the laws of gravity. I’m a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva, I’m gonna go go go! There's no stopping meeeeeeeeeee!”

            Now everyone was dancing and laughing and having a blast while Umbridge gestured wildly, but no one paid her any attention.

            “I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah,” sang the tests, “two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit! I’m trav'ling at the speed of light! I wanna make a supersonic man out of you.”

            Umbridge stomped over and grabbed a test from the front row. She tore it in half and in half again but the fragments kept playing music and it did nothing to deter the others.

            “Don't stop me now I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball!” sang the tests, now somehow louder, “Don't stop me now, if you wanna have a good time just give me a call! Don't stop me now ('Cause I'm having a good time) Don't stop me now (Yes I'm havin' a good time)

I don't want to stop at aaaaaaaaall…”

            Ironically, at that moment in the song, Umbridge got the idea that ultimately worked.

            “INCENDIO!” she cried, shooting flames wildly from her wand and burning up every single test parchment.The room was silent now and we all sat down immediately, our dance party over. The room smelled of smoke and embers and no one was quite sure what to do next.

            I sat in smug satisfaction as Umbridge lost her cool. She screamed and ranted and raved and vowed to catch the culprit if it was the last thing she did. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t, making it all feel even better. We spent the rest of class reading out of the textbook, which wasn’t too bad at all, just boring. It may have been a small rebellion, but at least it got us out of a test for the day.


End file.
